


Peter Parker's Ultimate Cookery by Wade Winston Wilson

by HaveMyWeedCookies



Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Spider-Man - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Cooking, Domestic Fluff, Feeding Kink, Fluff, Humor, M/M, Peter isn't, Wade is a great cook
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-30
Updated: 2017-05-05
Packaged: 2018-10-25 18:24:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10769853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HaveMyWeedCookies/pseuds/HaveMyWeedCookies
Summary: Wade was a great cook. On the other hand, Peter knew no shit about cooking but seemed to enjoy the idea of preparing meals for Wade. Wade would give in Peter’s culinary enthusiasm if Peter’s cooking had not been killing him constantly. And Wade didn’t exaggerate that dying part too. He did die.Or Wade suffered from Peter’s horrible culinary skills and decided to take the matter in his hand by teaching his boyfriend how to actually make food edible.





	1. Spaghetti meat sauce

If somebody cared enough to ask Deadpool to comment about his love life, Wade would puff his chest with pride and said that he and Petey were really an item. Despite their different preference in serving justice to baddies, there were many things they shared the same interest with each other. Like their red-themed spandex suits.

Or their love for cooking.

Well, this was where their similarity in the culinary realm ended. Here is a fact: Wade was a great cook. Everyone who had a chance to taste his dishes admitted that, though reluctantly. One the other hand, Peter couldn’t cook even his life depended on it. Although the kid loved to think that he could, and Wade was the one paying the price with his life. Wade didn’t exaggerate that dying part too. He did actually die.

It never occurred to Wade when he and Peter started dating that Peter knew no shit about cooking. After all, cooking was the basic survival knowledge that everyone should know, right? In his entire life, Wade never met anyone that couldn’t before. And here was his Petey. At the beginning of their dating, Spidey was still keeping his civilian ego out of their vigilant association so treating each other with homemade breakfast was out of the table. Most of their rooftop date night usually consisted of pizza, greasy Mexican and Chinese take-outs which were delicious but Wade was a kind of guy who felt the urge to provide, as in nurture, for the people he cared about. Understandably, Wade was on the moon when they, actually just Peter, were out about their secret identities and Peter starting crashing over Wade’s. Now, he had many chances to show off his culinary prowess.

That was six months ago, now Peter and Wade recently moved into their new apartment, with a really meticulous kitchen Wade personally commissioned. Because he secretly was a party girl who dreamed of hosting a chick party in his so glam kitchen. But more importantly, he just wanted to be the best waifu for his Baby Boy. 

Though it was official “their kitchen”. Peter rarely used them. Wade, on the other hand, commanded this area of their new house. Everything in the new apartment had felt into the rhythm in which Wade would cook for both of them. Sometime, Peter would sit on a stool and watch Wade performed, eyes wide and impressed.Wade was flipping the fried rice when Peter spoke,

“How could you pull that so effortlessly? Or it was mandatory for those applying for a mercenary job to have a skill of a chef too?” 

Wade snorted

“No shit. But it is still a helpful skill even in my line of work. For any assassin, the safest thing you put in your month is your own cooking. Well, yeah except you were me who cannot die.”

“That such a rare wisdom but seriously where did you learn how to do that?” Peter inquired, curious.

“…I have cooked since I remembered. At first, it was pure instinct to survive ‘cause my alcoholic of a father firmly believed that a kid could get all nutritional needs from a bottle of beer. That was all he stocked in his fridge anyway.” 

Wade turned off the heat and distributed the fried rice to two waiting plates. Peter watched him. Whenever Wade was caught in his unpleasant past, Peter didn’t offer verbal condolence because Peter understood it didn’t help. But he always looked softly but yet strongly at Wade almost like Wade was the most precious person in his world. Full of love and understanding. So, Wade smiled.

“But that bastard was so stinky, he didn’t even share a bottle with me. So, I cooked for my own. Later, it grew into something more of a hobby. A pleasure. The best part of being a mercenary is that I had a chance to try foreign cuisines. And it is a good investment because of culinary skills I accumulated, I won the amazing Spider-man for myself!”

Peter laughed while digging in their lunch. However, he seemed somewhat lose in his thought.

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________

 

What Peter had been cooking in his head, revealed itself two days later.

It was a really nice ordinary day. Wade was lounging on their very comfortable very velvet-y red sofa, killing time on his phone, as he waited for the time to go to work. A miscellaneous non-mercenary job that he threatened Weasel to find for him because Wade already quitted his mercenary job. Peter was busying with his college assignments, cute glasses perched adorably on his little pixie nose. Wade got up from his sofa, groaned loudly as today was still a rat-terminating job. Again. He announced,

“Baby Boy, Daddy is going out. I might stop to pick some items from the store for our dinner. Need anything?”

Peter went a little rigid, then he carefully said,

“Actually you don’t need to cook for us tonight.”

Wade gasped. Horrified.

“W…Why! Was that Pad Thai I made last night didn’t satisfy you?—you seemed to enjoy it though, stuffing it like a chipmunk which was so cute by the way. Did you hate it? Why haven’t you told me earlier, Sweetie-pie? Communication is the most important part in relationships!”

Peter blushed hard. “My mouth was not stuffed!”

Wade stared at him.

“Okay, I might do that. Whatever, that’s not the point! I told you not to cook because I’m going to take a charge tonight.” Peter continued. “You have been the one cooking for us like since even before we moved in together. I want to cook for you too.” He finished, blushing again.

Aww, that was so cute. Wade almost squeezed Peter’s cheeks. After all, science has it confirmed that cute things really did bring out people’s innate aggression and his Petey was the cutest. Only Wade allowed to touch him though or someone was going to get murdered. So, unsuspicious almost ignorant to his fate, Wade left for work, heart growing three sizes as he dreamed of the spaghetti meat sauce his Baby Boy promised to make.

______________________________________________________________________________

Wade came home to find his once very neat kitchen destroyed. He almost convinced that somebody got killed here as the red substance was spilled everywhere even on the ceiling until he realized that the mysterious substance was supposed to be tomato sauce. A very bad tomato sauce. That should be a warning sign if he wasn’t too traumatized to read.

Peter appeared silently at his side, sheepishly scratching his ear.

“Wade. I’m really sorry. I promise I’ll clean all the sauce, the soot. And buy you a new set of pots and bowls that I Kinda broke them. Unintentionally! Please don’t be mad.”

How could Wade be mad at that Bambi eyes, especially when Peter turned them on to him full power? That was not fair at all.

“Dinner?” Wade sputtered, snapping back from his traumatic state of realizing that half of his precious kitchenware were gone. Wade doted on them. They were his own babies. 

“Oh, yeah! You must be hungry! I set the table in the living room as the kitchen is kinda messy at this moment.”

___________________________________________________________________________________

 

Peter’s spaghetti meat sauce looked innocent enough to deceive Wade of its malicious nature. From seeing the table, Wade knew how much effort Peter put into making perfect for Wade. Plates set neatly, food still warm. Realization dawned on him that this was the first time Peter cooked for him and it melted his heart. So Wade picked up a fork and ate.

He shuddered. 

As in pre-vomit stage kind of shudder. Some of the pasta was overcooked and went gooey. But some was still dried? Did he smell the burnt? And the sauce. That was the true horror. It didn’t taste like something edible at all. So acidic and bitter. Meatball also undercooked. It was fucking raw! Wade roared internally in his best Gordon Ramsey’s accent).

Peter waited for his comment patiently, wringing his hand nervously. 

“What do you think?” He asked, worried. 

What did Wade really think? This thing was inedible and there was no way you could fix it but throwing it away. However, Wade also knew that Peter was exhausted every day with all of his college stuff, Spider-Manning and getting shouted from his jackass boss at the Bugle. The last thing he needed was a disappointment after spending hours cooking something for Wade, edible or not. So he said,

“Um, just need lil more salt and you can go open your own restaurant!”

Peter looked surprised and then beamed at him.

“Sweet talk would get you nowhere, but you can have all the spaghetti.” Wade shrieked internally. Oblivious, Peter continued. “I’m not hungry. Cooking is really an exhausting work. Have no idea how you do that all time for me. So thank you, Wade.”

Peter’s smile was so warm and bright so Wade dutifully ate the abomination that was Peter’s cooking. A tongue was just an insignificant anatomical part compared to Peter’s love. Wade would willingly sacrifice anything for Peter and it was still incomparable to all the things Peter had done for him, a man so fucked up that everyone had given up saving. Wade slurped the last portion the spaghetti that was made with love. Peter looked very pleased.

Worth it.

__________________________________________________________________________

They were doing the washing and drying dishes when Peter brought up the question again.

“Is my cooking that really good? Aunt May always say otherwise. You have to tell me truthfully, Wade”

Wade stilled. As much as Wade appreciate Peter’s gesture, this might be the moment he told Peter the truth of how bad that dish was to Wade’s poor stomach and that he should not even think to cook again. Ever. But an imagination with Peter disappointed with himself had Wade carefully readjusted his sentence.

“…Not bad. You really have potentials for someone who seems to –never step a foot in the kitchen before. But still! You have to admit that I’m the prettier one in an apron.” Such a sublime compliment with a subtext of truth. Wade was such a smooth bastard.

Peter rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, yeah.” They fell into a peaceful silence, Peter looking thoughtful and Wade looking forward to visiting the toilet. Then, Peter said

“I’d love to cook for you from now on. What do you say?”

Fuck!


	2. Pancakes and Grilled Cheese and Spinach Sandwich

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter’s lunch box almost got Clint killed. Wade found himself in a life-or-death situation. In other words, Black Widow had currently strangled him. “Speak quicker, Deadpool. Before I rip off your windpipe” Natasha threatened.  
> “He stole from my lunchbox.”

One might compliment how successfully Wade dug his own grave. Last night, Peter proposed him a pilot project in which Peter would like to be responsible for their breakfasts and dinners.

“My semester is reaching an end. And I’ll have a plenty of time this summer for refining my cookery.” Peter finished his presentation enthusiastically.

“No!” In his alarmingly panic, Wade might shot down the idea, perhaps too fast, that had Peter narrowed his eyes in suspicion.

“Well, that was fast. Almost sounds like you prepared that comment long before I presented my proposal.” Peter crossed his arm defensively. “So, you don’t like my cooking and lied to me?” He accused.

“No! I like your cooking. Sincerely speaking with a scout honor.” Wade swore.

And that was not a complete lie. He liked Peter’s cooking. Call Wade a sappy but he won’t give a shit. It was Peter’s efforts alone that counted. But there was a big difference between tolerating Peter’s horrible concoction occasionally and being forced to consume it two times per day. Giving to their current circumstance, Wade doubted Peter would be thrilled to hear the harsh truth yet. But Wade needed to conjure something as Peter was tapping his foot impatiently waiting for Wade’s further elaboration. 

“I just concern about -- your tight schedule. Right, your schedule!” Wade soothed “Don’t you already have that Bugle and vigilant jobs to be responsible to? You are after all the breadwinner in our relationship, why burden yourself with cooking chores when you can dump them on me, your little obedient wife.”

Peter looked unimpressed.

“Wade, first of all, we practically live on your savings and if you forgot justice doesn’t pay. Second, you aren’t my “wife” neither are you little. And this is 21th century. Your thought on the gender division of labor affronts that gay flag you hang on our balcony.”

Wade’s shoulder sagged, defeated. At this point, there were no diplomatic ways to discourage Peter’s newfound enthusiasm in cooking that didn’t make it sound like an outright rejection. So, after three hours of bargaining and begging (on Wade’s part), they compromised. Peter would prepare breakfasts for both of them but Wade still did dinners. At least, Wade saved dinners. Peter wasn’t pleased with the arrangement.

“Don’t you think I don’t know that you assign me breakfasts because they are simpler to make than dinners.” Peter huffed. 

“But breakfast is the most important meal of the day!” Wade exclaimed. As Peter still looked unconvinced, Wade persuaded,

“I know you want to do something fancy, Baby Cake. And you might think that breakfasts are dull but you are so wrong! Breakfasts are not just cereals, toasts or pancakes (although pancakes are excellent). There are many recipes of fine culinary arts about breakfasting, from Egg benedicts to Pan a la catana to Vietnamese’s pork porridge. Plenty of room for you to practice and play.”

Peter went relaxed, although reluctantly. “Okay, I’ll do this but with one condition.” He raised his finger. “Let me prepare you a lunchbox whenever you go out for a work.”

“Eh, no.”

Peter didn’t take a no this time as he crawled onto Wade’s lap and bribed him until Wade sacrificed the righteous cause for the carnal desire.

 

Monday mornings usually were their traditional pancake days despite their lacks of alphabetical alliteration. So this Monday morning, Wade woke up with a confident dread that Peter would be cooking some pancakes in his kitchen. 

‘My poor baby.’ Wade mourned his kitchen which he’d been cherishing from the first day he set a foot on her magnificent floor. Since his retirement, Wade tried to stop obsessing with weaponry. Hence, he poured the urge into his newfound obsession with equipment and polishing his kitchen. It was healthier and Wade was very proud of his collections of Hello Kitty kitchenware. You see, it was so hard to witness her downfall without being able to protect her. This could be an A grade tragic backstory for a new superhero debut. Or a villain.

Wade’s kitchen was partially destroyed this time. On the positive side, that was a vast improvement of Peter. Peter was humming while standing in front of the stove, drown in Wade’s shirt. Wade padded barefoot to his respective stool in order to get a good view of Peter’s perfect booty. This was such a good sight. Peter turned to smile at him. From this angle, Wade had a clear view of some black lumpy thingy, his boyfriend currently flipping on the pan. That was not a good sight.

“Your pancakes almost ready.” Peter chatted, clearly in a bright mood. “I think I almost get all the gist of cooking. Yesterday was so exhausting but today feels different. It is so relaxing. Like a therapy.”

Wade hid his snort behind his mug of coffee. Wade’s expectation of pancakes was very high. It was the first plate he learned how to master. FYI, this was how Wade like his pancakes: fluffy and golden, with the generous amount of butter; crispy bacons and sunny-side eggs; and the last, drizzling with the godly goodness of pure Canadian maple syrup. Simplicity and perfection. Peter’s confident statement had Wade doubtful. And he was right when Peter served him the pancake breakfast in which everything on the plate had varying degrees of burns.

Not that it was something Wade wasn't prepared all the night for, after all giving Peter’s performance yesterday. Nevertheless, today was different. Because today Wade Wilson have the savior at his side, the maple syrup. Every condemned dishes would get purified after soaking in the holiness of maple syrup. Wade stretched his hand to grab a bottle of maple syrup. And found it empty.

Fuck Odin’s ball! Fuck! He forgot to stop at a store to buy a new one yesterday because of Peter’s stunning announcement. Wade really hated his existence more than ever.

“Petey, the maple syrup is out.”

“There are other condiments in the pantry.” Peter the heathen said nonchalantly. 

“But, they are not maple syrup.”

“Wade, dig in. Or you’re going late for work.” 

Wade slowly took the first bite of Peter’s charcoaly pancakes and chewed.

“Petey, why the pancakes salty?”

“Oh fuck, too much salt? Yesterday you said to add a little more salt. So, I try. Might miscalculate the measurement.” Peter started tasting. “Yeah, you’re right. Fucking salty.” Peter frowned at his pancake, looking confused and hurt that they turned out the way he didn’t expect.

“I’m really sorry. You don’t have to eat that.” As Peter reached to grab Wade’s plate, Wade bent over his pancakes protectively.

“No! It is fine. Actually, it’ll fill up my daily requirement of sodium. And I’m not to worrying about mineral malnutrition.” It was not fine but he rather had it than Peter’s hurt. Wade’s tongue, throat, and stomach were having a protest and threatening to strike as he continued eating. As the sovereign of his own body, Wade shoved down more pancakes to remind them who owned the country. Peter sipped his coffee, watching Wade with adoration.

At least, Wade was finished with Peter’s cooking for today. Or so he thought. When Wade was going to leave the apartment, Peter handed him a Hello Kitty lunchbox and kissed his cheek.

“Go win some bread!” Peter smiled and then shut the door.

 

Wade didn’t understand why in order to be an upright citizen, one should be economically active. He wasn’t even a citizen of this country. Why couldn’t he stay at home? He was a fucking quest. Quests weren't supposed to work. Today, Wade’s work was a sewage cleaning job because Weasel was an asshole and clearly doing a shitty job as a job agent. If that fucker supplied Wade with one more kind of this job, Wade swore he’d take a revenge. Sadly, it had to be something non-fatal, because he did promise Peter that he would unalive people no more.

“Perhaps, shoving Baby Boy’s cooking down to his throat would serve him right!” Wade thought maleficently as he opened his lunchbox during the break. His civilian co-workers cooed at how cute Wade’s boyfriend was when Wade declined their offer to get him something from a Taco stand. Peter made him a grilled cheese and spinach sandwich which was so mysteriously green like a koala’s fecal pap. Wade was almost tempted to dump it into a garbage bin and run to the nearest taco stand. Almost. Because that would feel like an adultery to Peter’s food? Even though said food was likely inedible.

But it was permeated with Peter’s love. 

In short, Wade woke up in a morgue after the consumption of Peter’s sandwich. No, the food didn’t kill him. Not directly though. It was just that Wade might pass out because of a sudden bodily shutdown. Clearly, Peter’s food two times per day was too much for his rebellious body. Wade might also fall down into an open sewage, with face down. And drown.

 

As a martyr, Wade suffered silently for a week. And then one morning, he was contacted by the Avengers about the secret spy mission that they planned to recruit him and Wade was asked to be present at the meeting in the Tower two day after the phone call. Wade's dream of working alongside with the group of heroes he always looked up to had surprisingly come true when he least expected it. Of course, Wade was happy but they just finished their breakfast session which meaned some significant organs in Wade’s body were still regenerating from damages so Wade was too drained to voice his joy. Peter, on the other hand, was buzzing with excitement. As Spider-man, the hero always used any chance when he and the Avengers collaborated together to vouch for Deadpool’s capacity for good. He wanted Wade to finally have a chance he deserved.

“Wade, I’m so proud of you!” Peter tackled Wade on the sofa and hugged him tightly on his torso. “This is a very good sign that the Avengers beginning to see your true potentials that I've always seen in you.”

Wade smiled and patted Peter’s head gently. “I know right. Took them so long but the boy band plus your spider cousin lady finally realized how awesome I am.”  
Peter looked up at Wade from his position, eyes turned a little bit serious.

“Yes, but their budding trust is quite fragile. Not to start with their non-existing tolerance with your bullshit. This is a chance you clearly cannot mess up. We have to prepare.” 

Hence, gone with the afternoon session Wade planned to have a sexy time with Peter. Instead, Wade had to memorize a long list of things he wasn't allowed to say or do to the Avengers and recited them to Peter obediently.

 

“So, what do you think how long this meeting would finish?” Peter asked when they prepared to go to bed after the nightly patrol.

“Half a day I think. They asked me to be there very early in the morning so it not gonna take a full day.”

“Good. I’ll prepare you a lunchbox. Goodnight, Wade.” Peter turned off the light.

“Baby, you don’t have to—“ Wade injected but Peter already went straight to his deep slumber and snoring.

 

The meeting wasn't going well. In short, Peter’s lunchbox almost got Clint killed. 

Everything went down pretty fast. Shortly after Clint was assisted to the medical ward, Wade found himself strangled in a deadly grip of the very angry Black Widow.

“What did you pull this time, Deadpool. Speak quickly, before you lose your windpipe.” Natasha threatened. 

Other Avengers were gathering around them in a circle, watching with different degrees of interest. Captain America tried to intervene before Natasha seriously delivered her threat but was stopped by a hand on his chest from Iron Man. Tony seemed to be the only one genuinely enjoying at Wade’s misery, Goatee asshat still salty that his protégé chose Wade against his best advice. 

“Well?” Natasha drawled as she applied more pressure on her grip. Peter’s relative spider was fucking scary.

“He stole from my lunchbox.” Wade wheezed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the kudos! Does anyone want to share the idea of plates you want Peter to make for Wade? XD


	3. Chicken Karaage and Chocolate Chip Cookies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clint turned his focus to Wade, brows furrowed. “But seriously, dude. And I dragged my limping ass up here to ask you directly, instead of napping. Why did you deep-fry a rock and drizzle it in motor oil?”
> 
> Or many more people are affected by Peter's cooking and Wade needs to do something.

This was what happened after Wade’s answer: the group of mighty heroes was rendered speechless. Natasha blinked, clearly unexpected what Wade just stuttered out, which consequently led to her grip loosen. It was a brief moment of the life-or-death situation but Wade was nothing but resourceful. Not missing the chance from Black Widow’s distraction, Wade tried to scurry away from her hand and -- to be dragging back by the super spy. Wade yelped. For a normal human who wasn’t blessed with super agility, Natasha unquestionably possessed an impressive reflex of her own which in other words, Wade was so screwed.

‘She clearly lives up to her deadly spider-theme. Woman is fucking scary and sexy, respectively in that order!’ Wade couldn’t help but fanboying her extraordinary skills as he was thrown against the wall and dropped down like a sad sack of potatoes.

“Ouch! Did you just threw my fat ass across the floor so effortlessly?” Wade was mesmerized. He was a solid 6’2’’ of muscle and wit. Natasha manhandled him like he weighed like a Unicorn’s poop which was a cotton candy. It was an impressive feast that he couldn’t help but voice his awe. Natasha remained indifferently although the corner of her lip somewhat lifted up a little bit. 

Then Wade just had to ruin the fragile peace.

“Let me tell you that was an impressive feast for someone of your height and age, having been active since the debut in the 64’ and still kicking ass. Hmm, I just understood now! Is that what folks these days talk about how “to age gracefully?” Can you please share the tips?” Wade asked eagerly.

Bruce who stayed farthest from the team and near the exit door, in case that he needed to evacuate himself, did facepalm. Things almost seemed to cool down, but you could trust the certain thing that was Wade Wilson couldn’t just shut up to save his ass. If Natasha looked pissed off before, now she looked thunderous. 

“Did you just call me old?” She hissed.

Wade swallowed, instinctively plastering himself against the wall in fear.

“This meeting is getting more and more interesting. Isn’t it? Cap, you do want some popcorn?” Tony asked Steve who appeared to stand closest to the billionaire, they both watching a display of punishment being handed to Wade: Tony with glee and Steve with disapproval of unnecessary violence. 

“Tony, no.” Steve admonished his late friend’s son. 

“Fine. Jarvis, have the kitchen deliver popcorn to the meeting room on 10th floor. All for me and none for Steve. Oh, and a can of Dr Pepper would be nice too.” Tony said to the bodiless AI, sticking his tongue at Steve challengingly. 

“Tony, you are being childish.” Steve informed him disappointedly. 

“What the fuck are you all playing?” Clint drawled tiredly from the door, slowly hobbling into the room. A medic trailed after him, fussing over Clint that made the marksman shot him an annoying glare.

“Clint, my man! You’re alive! My dearest old friend, save me!” Wade shouted desperately from the floor where he was currently lying while Natasha crushing down his heaving chest with her boot.

Clint eyed him, clearly irritated. “We’re not that close.” 

Wade whimpered pathetically.

“Oh fuck it, I’m so going to retire. This time for real and I’ll buy a barn. None of you will be invited. Nat, gets your boot off of Wilson!” Clint shouted.

“Birdie, you’re such a spoilsport. What am I going to do with the popcorn now?” Tony complained.

“You can shove it up to your ass.” Wade suggested helpfully, slowly picking up himself, his pride and his red beanie from the floor. Tony shot him a withering glare, looking ready to start over their endless Ballad of verbal incivility. Wade readied for his turn to fire the arsenal. 

“How are you feeling now?” Natasha asked Clint, paying the others no attention. Like a cooldere, Wade thought but this time he successfully kept it to himself. Peter would be so proud.

“Agent Barton had expressed symptoms for a severe case of food poisoning. Although, the symptoms are dealt for now. He wishes to be back into the meeting against the doctor’s recommendation for him to rest.” The medic explained, giving Clint a pointed glare. The medic was a man who was dedicated to his profession. However, Clint shooed him away, completely dismissive of the medic’s good intention.

Natasha was glaring at Wade accusingly. Wade fled to Clint and attached himself to the agent’s leg, sobbing dramatically.

“It was my fault. Was hungry and Wilson had a lunchbox.” Clint shrugged. Wade was teared up. Finally, there was someone testifying for his innocence! Then, Clint turned his focus to Wade, brows furrowed. “But seriously, dude. And I dragged my limping ass up here to ask you directly, instead of napping. Why did you deep-fry a rock and drizzle it in motor oil?”

“Excuse you, you ungrateful lunchbox thief! That thing you stole from me were the chicken karaage my Baby Boy made for me!” Wade retorted indignantly. As true as Clint’s comment was, no one insulted Peter’s food in Wade’s face. It was his duty to defense Baby Boy’s honor.

“Soo, let me summarize here. Underoos might or might not resort to poisoning method to get rid of you, Nutcase?” Tony jumped to the conclusion. “I always predict that his patience would finally run out.”

“That is unheard of him.” Bruce supplied.

“You’ll never know.” Tony whispered conspiratorially. 

“Still, as his mentor, I’m a bit disappointed that he selected such an archaic method of assassination. Had he contacted me, I’d suggest something of more novelty, for instance, a repulsor beam.” Tony signed.

“Poisoning is a very effective method of assassination that is still employed today.” Natasha commented coolly. 

“Hello, I’m right here. If you don’t fucking stop your false accusation on my Petey-Pie right now, you’ll be speaking with my lawyer, a real lawyer. And I’m not kidding. His name is Matt.” Wade threatened.

Everyone was so hopeless, Steve seriously wondered why fate had him woke up in this time. So, he stepped into the conversation and asked the necessary question this group of top-notch heroes didn’t even care to ask, “Wade, would you like to tell us why you brought Peter’s food to the meeting and why they’re poisonous?” 

“It wasn’t poisonous! Bird Brain here has a weak stomach of middle aged man!” Wade yelled. 

Steve pinched his nose.

 

Needless to say, they spent most of the valuable time of the meeting listening to Wade’s vivid description of Peter’s cookery episodes. 

“Your life sucks.” Clint told him frankly. 

Bruce massaged his chin, offering his hypothesis to the team and Wade.

“Perhaps, it is because of your healing factor and Peter’s own speedy metabolism that both of you bodies can withstand from poison –“ As Wade was going to open his month and fire objection, Bruce hurriedly amended his analysis “Sorry, -- withstand from any chemical reactions that turn the food indigestible to a sensitive stomach of ordinary people.” 

Wade nodded approvingly.

“Is it really that bad, as a scientist I refuse to believe anything without my own experimentation.” Tony who was not getting over the fact that the team that funded by his money dismissed his assassination theory in unison, criticized petulantly. Wade simply offered him a piece of Japanese fried chicken. After all, he was a big boy who learned how to share.

Hours later, had Tony coughing his lung out. 

“And here I always thought that his aunt’s walnut meatloaf was bad.” Tony was traumatized. Bruce to pat his back in sympathy. Upon seeing Wade’s smug face, Tony growled,

“Medical bills will be sent to your house later, Wilson.” 

“Sure thing, Tin Can.”

“Okay, that’s enough. We have all information needed for making the decision now.” Steve called for the attention.

“A decision, what?” Wade asked. 

“Wade Wilson, alias Deadpool. You’re now on the waiting list for the Shield-Avengers operation until otherwise informed.” Natasha explained. 

And the relaxed atmosphere in the room suddenly evaporated.

“Now, that’s really not cool. At all.” Wade said calmly, but his body tensed. His cheesy attitude dropped off upon the Avenger’s evaluation.

“Listen, it was your merry girl group that called me up here in the first place. Care to share with me why I had to wake up at an ungodly hour to be denied? Give me a real good answer or I’d not stop pestering you till I’m cool with it. Believe me, when I say I’m very good at pestering people, I’m real that ‘good’.”   
Wade demanded in his get-down-to-business’s voice. He was getting really pissed. Let get everyone on the same page, the truth was Wade cared damn shit about the Avenger’s charades. He was doing this for Peter. It had ingrained into his existence that he’d do anything just for Peter’s happiness. Peter hoped that Deadpool get a second chance and Wade prepared to lick everyone’ asses, literally and figuratively, to fucking get it. See, he needed this job. If these so-high-and-mighty bastards thought they could toy with Wade’s hope and get away with it, then they’re so going to get their asses kicked.

At his promise of threat, Bruce stood abruptly and hurried out of the room. Everyone left in the meeting was still acting casually, it couldn’t be hidden that they were already on their defense-mode. Wade would give them credit for that, unlike many in the superhero community, these top-tier classed heroes were experienced enough not to underestimate Deadpool’s wrath.

Steve was the first who broke the sudden pressure that suffocated the room.

“There is a possibility the mission would be compromised if you participate with-- No, Wade no-“Steve raised his hand sharply in a stop gesture before Wade did anything stupid. “It is NOT because we don’t trust you. If we weren’t, we’d not have called you in for an interview in the first place. It is your current condition that we worry.” He said firmly.

“In case that you may not know me, I have many conditions. Which one?” Wade drawled, couldn’t help but be sarcastic. 

“Your physical readiness.” Natasha answered. 

Wade blinked. 

“What?”

“You showed up at the reception looking physically unprepared. Now, we know that it was caused by the food you’ve been a recipient for a week long and will continue to receive in the nearest future. From your own story, you got yourself killed at least one time. The mission needs you to be at your peak of physical performance. We cannot take a risk.” Steve listed.

Wade slammed back into his chair. Tension leaked out of his body. Out of many possibilities that he could sabotage his chance at this job, this one was clearly not in his mind. Wade really had no idea how to break this news to his boyfriend. He didn’t even notice the Avenger’s instant relaxation at his receded hostility. Natasha went to fetch Bruce back. Steve's eyes soften.

“Not too fast to be so down, son.” Steve comforted Wade. The captain’s gentle voice called Wade back from his brood. Wade looked up hopefully because Captain America always had that effect on people when he spoke to them with such a voice imbued with hope.

“You have shown a consistent improvement in your behavior, Wade. That's remarkable. That's why we sent you an invitation. We really believe that you’re the most suitable man for this operation, which will start 30 days after this meeting. If by that time, you can solve the source of your current distraction. You can join the mission.”

Wade’s ears perked up. 

“We hope you’ll join us. And, if you can give us an excellent performance on this task, we’ll consider putting your name on the waiting list for the next Avenger initiative too.” Steve finished.

“Cappp, you really have to tell him that NOW.” Tony groaned as Wade immediately whooped. Steve always supported Peter on his redemption troop with Wade. They were really made for each other. Besides, It got Tony's feather ruffled. He smiled secretly to himself.

“I’m going to be an Avenger!” Wade hoorayed. 

“Not so fast!” Tony yelled back.

 

“Wait, how am I supposed to be healthy for the mission? I can’t quit Baby Boy’s food. That’s not an option.” Wade blurted out, shortly after the meeting was over.

“Figure it out yourself, Wilson.” Tony dismissed flippantly. “We’re going to lock the door. If you don’t move your ass out like right now, do me a favor and jump off that window.” 

“Don’t you ever consider a second debut as a villain, Ironing Man? You’ll do a wonderful job.” 

“Why don’t you teach him how to cook, if you don’t quit?” Bruce suggested in his soft voice. The scientist was always uneasy with any forms of socialization, especially with a chatty character like Deadpool. But he was too tired of another episode of a verbal fight between Wade and Tony. 

“But I can’t! I’m not good at teaching anyone on anything. And teaching means confronting Petey with the inconvenient truth!” Wade whined in frustration which seriously had annoyed Tony.

“Parker’s also not a mentor when he decided to put up with your pathetic ass and guide you to where you are now, Wilson. So, grow a ball for once and get out of my building.” The billionaire replied chilly before he and Bruce left Wade behind on the corridor. 

Wade couldn’t come up with any witty counter for that. He really hated when Tony Stark was right. However, Wade was now determined to be the one laughing in the end. He would fucking make a Julia Child out of Peter and then won the job. 

 

In spite of his bravery that deflated very fast, Wade was really worried how to break the news to Peter that wouldn’t send him directly to a couch for weeks. So, Wade called his minion aka Weasel. The barkeeper hung up on him. Why Wade encountered lots of rude people in his life? 

 

There was a smoke in his apartment when he was home. Wade run to the kitchen where the source of smoke coming from. In there was his Peter Parker in a Spider-man suit, minus the mask, currently bent over their oven, baker mitts in both hands as he was pulling a tray out.

He looked up at Wade with a warm smile, his cheeks covered in flour, floppy brown hair wilder than usual. And Wade was entranced. He didn’t understand Peter baking in his Spidey costume could be his kink. But it did. Peter should bake more in his super suit. Then, Wade glanced at something sizzling on the tray. He amended. He rather had Peter cosplaying cooking in the suit.

“Hey, how was the meeting going?” Peter asked cheerfully.

“Nailed it, Baby Boy. They can’t resist my charm.” Wade told Peter. He might omit some details but that was alright because he’d tell Peter everything – but not right now.

Peter rolled his eyes affectionately at Wade. “That really is a good news. I’m so relieved that you secured the job. Guess it is a good idea after all that I baked this.” Peter put the tray on the table to let it cool down. They looked akin to Granites.

“…And what are they?” Wade trailed off, pretending to rummage the fridge for orange juice.

“Chocolate chip cookies to celebrate your victory!” Peter beamed.

“I just came back from my patrol and on the way, I just happened to be swinging pass Lavain Bakery. And they smelled so good that I almost got down to get ourselves some treats.” Peter told him. “But the queue was soooo long. Then, the idea came to me, ‘why would I buy when I can bake our own cookies!’ and here they are.”

The cookies oozed the aura that just a sniff he could clearly see Death waving her hand at him.

“Yum.” Wade offered weakly, gulped down his juice to buy more time as his brain did a calculating job. He was given 30 solid days to get Peter cook something that was edible. They seriously need to have the talk, hopefully by tonight which Wade was certain that if he had to eat all of that cookies, he’d be in a coma until the next morning. That won’t do.

Then Wade had an idea. A two-birds-one-stone kind of idea.

“Eureka.” 

 

30 minutes later found Wade in a seedy bar of St. Margaret’s, with a Hello Kitty Tupperware tucked under his arm. As Wade approached the counter bar, a familiar voice greeted him with unhidden annoyance. “Could you please get the fuck out of my bar, please? Your fucked face scares off my patrons.”

“Hello to you too Weasel.” Wade said saccharinely “Are not you suppose to ask an ex-hitman who popped up at your bar to tell you ‘How was life on the other side?’ like a real bartender?” Wade chided. 

“Why the fuck I quote Jonh Wick?”

“It is a good movie.”

Weasel shrugged “True. But still no. Why the hell are you here and not with your pocket-sized boyfriend in your lovenest.”

“At least you should try to greet me with a manner of a once very close acquaintance who reunites with his heartmate after a long time ago.” Wade was not letting go of the topic yet.

“I would -- had you not been a constant pain in my ass all these months since your retirement. Almost like you never leave me like I always hope.” Weasel was now cleaning his counter, negligence of the bartender’s duty by not offering Wade anything to drink.

“You did a shitty job at finding jobs for me. Of course, I sent you complaints so you’ll be notified of your deficiency and improved.” Wade explained as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Look, I really want to keep you a company but I don’t wanna. So could you tell me how to get rid of you from my bar?” Weasel asked impatiently.

“Peter baked and I’m here to deliver your share. I just secured a new job with the Avenger. No need for you half-ass assistance anymore.” Wade handed Weasel the tupperware. The bartender received it, suspicion clear in his eyes as he opened the lid.

“You gave me meteorites.” Weasel described with his objective monotone voice.

“They are cookies.”

“Yup, still meteorites.” The arm-dealer dismissed callously, “I’m not eating these.”

“Dude, the second rule of reciprocity is that you receive whatever you have been given. Now, you’re being plain rude.”

“Nope. Pretty sure it’s called self-preservation.” 

Wade would admit that Weasel did possess a high survival instinct. That would explain how a geeky creature like him survived many years in the mercenary business that basically a shark tank. However, Weasel’s refusal of the cookies didn’t follow Wade’s plan so he needed to improvise a little bit.

 

In the end, Wade might or might not shove the cookies down into Weasel’s throat. It was a seedy bar with no cameras, no one had evidence. Wade was on his way home, whistling to himself. Now, that left only one thing to do: Tell Peter the truth.

Needless to say, St. Magaret’s was closed for a week due to their sole barkeeper hospitalized.

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, this is my first fic in the Spideypool fandom. Please let me know whether you guys like them or not. I'd greatly appreciate any feedback I could get :) Also, apologies for my English in advance.


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